When you think you understand, but you really don't...

(Yes, it's another dang long post...just think of it as getting a bargain for your buck...oh wait, this is free...well, then, it's an even better deal...)

I don't know what's more maddening and challenging to deal with--folks who don't understand and don't care to understand or folks who are convinced they understand but in reality don't understand at all. I've dealt with the latter frequently, and every time, I walk away feeling sick to my stomach, patronized, and dismissed. Nothing new of course, but nonetheless, hurtful and annoying.

Here's the thing, I do believe that through our collective sufferings we can work toward a certain level of understanding of others' sufferings. We can do our best to draw from our own lives to find experiences that help us to relate to or understand better the hardships and suffering of others, with a caveat, though--to also recognize that to understand better does not therefore mean we know what it's like to live in someone else's shoes.

As this relates to being an adoptee, it makes me insane when folks, especially adoptive parents, put up this wall of "Oh, you don't have to tell me, I know, I already get it, because I went through this or I went through that...so I know what it's like to be an adoptee..."

Or I can't tell you how many times, folks who are older than I am, have patronized me with variations of this statement, "Well, when you get older and wiser, like me, you'll understand better, and adoption won't have the same effect on you that it does today. I mean sure, it will still be a part of who you are, but ultimately, you'll get over it..." Due to their own life's hardships they presume that they know how my adoption experience will resolve (whether that's even possible remains to be seen).

Oh, really? Okay. Thanks for telling me how I'm going to deal with being adopted. I'm glad you know so well how to handle daily life as an adoptee. I'm glad you somehow know that being adopted is just like dealing with anything else in life.

Really?

Sure. Yes, sure. I'm sure that one day when I have to fill out papers at a medical office, I won't have to leave entire sections blank because I don't know my medical history (despite reuniting).

Right. And I'm sure when I look at family photos and see this short Asian person among a sea of tall, Nordic looking people, I won't be reminded that I'm adopted...every...single...time.

And I'm sure--despite the fact that every time someone asks me where I'm from or where my parents live, I'm reminded that I'm adopted--that one day, I'll just forget that I'm adopted.

Certainly. And the fact that I'm constantly surrounded by people who look nothing like me and who assume that English is my second language and harangue me for not knowing Korean will one day no longer remind me that I'm adopted.

I'll stop there, but the list goes on. I'm not playing the violin here, and I don't mean to sound acerbic (or maybe I do). And, as I've stated before, it's not a competition of who has claim to the most tragic sob story or who has suffered the most. I'm just trying to give some practicals to help folks see that being an adoptee affects every day life--and in ways that are unique to adoptees. I've written about it before several times--being an adoptee isn't just something that hangs out on the back burner, and it's not viewed by the general public accurately. It's constantly burning out in front of me, and I feel the heat all the time, even in the most mundane of activities that so many take for granted as uneventful and trivial.

Someone can make the most benign, seemingly unrelated statement or question that nonetheless reminds me and brings to the forefront the fact that I am adopted...and being in reunion actually emphasizes and complicates that fact even more so...

Are you visiting your family for the holidays? Where are you from? I'm just like my mom. I get it from my dad. What are you going to name your son? I love kimchi. Did your mom get really bad morning sickness when she was pregnant with you? Oh, you're Korean, I lived in Korea for three years back in the nineties. How much did you weigh when you were born? How long was your mom in labor with you? Oh, I speak Korean. Does this or that run in your family? Who do you look like? Wait, you're mom is white, huh? That's not your brother! How long have your parents been married? Do you have siblings? Do you have a big family? Etc., etc.

These questions are not wrong or insensitive. They're normal, generally harmless questions to ask. But that's exactly why they perfectly illustrate my point--for some adoptees, benign, everyday life can stir up deep emotions and responses that others might not anticipate or even bother to think about--not because others are careless per se, but because they're unaware, or simply indifferent or...they think they've got a grasp when they really don't.

It irks me when folks come along, especially adoptive parents, proclaiming that they understand fully what it is to be an adoptee. My insides bristle when someone claims, "I myself completely understand and know exactly how you feel because I [fill in with perhaps somewhat related but completely different personal experience of speaker]."

What would be a more truthful and accurate response is "I think I can relate somewhat emotionally due to my life experiences, but ultimately I realize I'll never know what it is to be an adoptee."

Look, yes, trying to gain understanding into the adoptee experience is a good thing. I'm not discouraging that. I'm not trying to create a Catch 22 for the non-adopted persons trying to connect with their adopted loved ones. I'm just making the point to please be honest and truthful about your understanding. We can tell when we're being patronized or when our feelings and experiences are being diminished. (And that obviously applies to a vast many other situations.)

And don't get me wrong, I appreciate when adoptive parents educate themselves and make efforts to understand. Doing so, I believe, is crucial and vital to the role of an adoptive parent. I want adoptive parents to inform themselves and do whatever they can to increase and deepen their understanding of the adoptee experience.

But it's a bit troubling when an adoptive parent thinks she or he knows exactly what it's like to be an adoptee, because this has real consequences for their attitudes and behaviors toward their adopted children. When you think you already understand, when you think you've arrived, you don't seek out further understanding. You get complacent. You stop educating yourself. You stop challenging yourself. And you refuse to listen to others because you already believe you've got it all figured out.

It's a sad thing to me when someone does not understand because they already think they understand. People in this state of mind are often the most difficult to reach--not only when dealing with adoption matters but with anything in life. And I suppose, in a way, it's a form of hypocrisy and ultimately arrogance or pride.

At least those who realize they don't understand and openly state that they have no desire to understand are not deceiving themselves. Yes, it still hurts when someone chooses indifference. But at least they know and you know, and there's always hope in the future that their hearts and minds may change, because they at least know where they stand.

But for those who are blissfully ignorant yet believe themselves to be blissfully enlightened, who already think they've got it all figured out, but actually don't? Well, honestly, I haven't figured out how to reach people like this other than to simply hope that with time something will bonk them on the head and turn on the light. And maybe I don't understand these types folks like I could...and that's just it--it boggles my mind that they choose to be so dismissive.

Until, then, I have to learn to be patient and manage my own emotions so that I don't become my own worst enemy or their worst enemy, because that wouldn't do a bit of good for anyone.

* * *

Ultimately, when it comes to responding to and comforting loss and the associated grief and pain, it's often a lot more simple than folks make it.

We don't need to be fixed...we don't need "wisdom" or a sincere but presumptuous attempt to provide "answers"...we don't need you to pretend to understand or to tell us these things happen for a reason...

What we often need is what an adoptive mother alluded to in a comment to one of my recent posts, "...And maybe all my daughter will need on some of these occasions, all she'll want is to be held and listened to..."

That's it--simply and sincerely, heartfelt compassion and a listening ear. That's often all it takes.

Sometimes compassionate silence is the most understanding, validating response you can offer.

The most "right" thing you can do may simply be to listen.

I'm not looking for someone to fix me or give me all the answers they think I want or need to hear. I'm not a problem that needs a solution. I'm a human who needs sincere compassion and validation--not pity, and not charity.

What I need is to be treated with respect as an intelligent, competent, mature adult--not some angry, bitter exception to the norm. And as a child, I needed the same, simply applied in a way appropriate for my development.

Now, is that really too much to ask?

Apparently, for some, the answer is "yes."

The Business Of Adoption Agencies From The Inside (A Korean American Adoptee's Perspective)

If you have not already read this, it's a must-read. A former "insider" shares candidly about his years of experience as an employee, serving as adoption advocate and public relations, for one of the largest adoption agencies in the world:

Guest Post: The Business Of Adoption Agencies From The Inside (A Korean American Adoptee's Perspective)

I Believe in Signs

Here's the link (or click on the title above) to my monthly post over at the adoption website, "Grown in My Heart."

Think adopted children are too young to experience or be aware of the dissonance, confusion, loss, and displacement that come with being adopted? Think again...

Here's an excerpt from the opening:

Recently, initially due to my husband’s insight, I had somewhat of a revelation–although it will seem dumbly obvious to some of you. Yet this “epiphany” reaffirms in my mind that as a very young child I was not only acutely aware of being adopted but I was already heavily processing my adoption and experiencing the accompanying dissonance and confusion of identity–even though it did not appear obvious to my parents, or to me, for that matter...

"I love my spicy hunan girl": Please, adoption-related gear like this is NOT cute

Just FYI, peddling and wearing adoption-related gear like that featured above is neither cute nor noble. It honestly makes me sick to my stomach, short of literally hurling. Not to mention how it makes me feel patronized, demeaned, and objectified (not as though Asian women don't already deal overtime with being objectified...).

I could easily write entire blog posts addressing why and how each one of the above pieces represents multiple layers of harmful, detrimental, misguided thinking (to put it lightly and overly-restrained).

Linda at Real Daughter, who is so much better at being candid and unrestrained (qualities I greatly appreciate!) in her recent post, Name Game Part 2, enlightened me to the fact that merchandise like this even exists...I honestly had no idea, and now I kind of wish I still had no idea, because it's just so utterly disturbing.

But I think the existence of such apparel does reiterate the presumptuous and often ridiculous attitudes adoptees have to deal with on a daily basis--all the misinterpretation and patronizing, to say the least, along with all the euphemism and praise to the neglect and ignorance of the inherent complexities and harsh realities faced by adoptees, the constant dismissal of the loss, grief, and trauma...

Please, if you own any apparel like this, trash it, burn it, shred it--whatever you need to do to get rid of it, so that you never wear it again.

Like I said, it's not cute. Seriously. And it's definitely not noble.

I know maybe you meant well, and you thought you were being loving and cute, but seriously, it doesn't make me feel anything good.

As an adoptee, I am not something to brag about on your t-shirt or bumper. I am an adult human being, not a cause or a charity to promote and peddle or for which you are to award yourself a pat on the back.

Look, I'm not against true, real causes.

And I'm not against raising awareness.

But c'mon, folks, there are certainly more respectful, considerate, productive, and intelligent ways of doing it.

* * *

The following apparel was also equally disturbing...

http://harlowmonkey.typepad.com/harlows_monkey/a_pictures_worth_a_thousand_words/

http://harlowmonkey.typepad.com/harlows_monkey/2008/07/this-is-why.html

http://harlowmonkey.typepad.com/harlows_monkey/2007/05/what_does_my_t_.html

A reader asks, "Does adoption itself cause trauma?"

[Just a note, even if you don't read this entire post, please at least read what's in bold & color & please read the feedback provided by various readers in the comments section. The insights offered are incredibly valuable in answering the posed question, "Does adoption itself cause trauma?"]

Woah.

I am uber extra emotional these days. Duh--I suppose, being pregnant and in the last 10 weeks of the process give me an acceptable excuse.

I constantly feel both on the verge of joyful laughter and ceaseless tears.

So, as I try to answer a question posed to me by a prospective adoptive parent, bear with me. I think my filter is currently clogged and clouded with hormones. (Or well, I suppose I could be using that simply as an excuse to be obnoxious and scattered.)

A reader recently posted the following inquiry in the comments section of a previous post I wrote ("The sole trauma is the loss that occurs BEFORE adoption, but the practice of adoption itself causes no pain?"):

I am a new reader to your blog and am enjoying your posts. Thanks for sharing. I want to comment on this post because it's something I've been wondering about for a little while now. My husband and I are Korean-Americans (non-adoptees) who are in the process of adopting from Korea. I feel you have answered the post well from a TRA perspective (which is perfectly valid since that is your experience), but I still am trying to grasp what is the trauma in just adoption itself (without transracial or transcultural issues, etc.) assuming the child is placed in a loving, healthy home, the process was not corrupt (e.g. "black market" babies), and the relinquishment was intentional and permanent. I would appreciate if you shared your thoughts on this...

I am aware and am learning so much about the loss / primal wound and believe and acknowledge its reality. It is a profound trauma and I am not in denial of it. My question was based on your title of the post: "The sole trauma is the loss that occurs BEFORE adoption, but the practice of adoption itself causes no pain?" So, apart from the initial loss / relinquishment and assuming the conditions I listed previously occur in the adoption, is there still more trauma in adoption itself? I understand the child continues to suffer throughout his/her life because of the relinquishment and unanswered questions, but is the adoption in itself cause for more pain/trauma? In other words, let's say the same child was never adopted, remaining in foster care or orphanages (which, of course, has its own issues and complications), is he/she avoiding any trauma that would have occurred if he/she were adopted instead (given the conditions I listed previously)? If you feel that it's still answered in the other posts and resources listed, then I'll refer to that. Sorry if I sound like I'm being difficult. We are really trying to learn and do things right and in the best interest of our future child. We want to be prepared / understanding to ALL possible trauma that our child may be facing. Thanks!

* * *

First of all, I would love to hear feedback and insight from other adult adoptees and the like regarding the above inquiry. My opinion is certainly only one of many, and I hope that others will comment and offer their perspective.

* * *

[Setting aside the issues that come with transracial adoption, which I have previously discussed in the initial post on which the reader commented as well as in other posts...]

Generally-speaking, being adopted provides more stability than growing up in an institution or foster care (of course, why children end up in institutions in the first place is a whole other issue that I and other adoptees have addressed in previous posts).

But adoption, in and of itself, still brings its own set of consequences.

What I would like to express is that ultimately,

the losses and trauma of relinquishment and subsequent adoption should not be viewed or treated as separate entities (rather they constitute a process as a whole), because for many adoptees, the losses and trauma of relinquishment and subsequent adoption are interconnected—they are inextricable from one another.

Even though my biological mother relinquished me, part of the reason she considered doing so was because adoption was made available to her as a viable option versus her extended family or kin caring for me or the government stepping up to provide social services to help support her. (For insight specifically on what unwed Korean mothers face even today, read this excerpt from the book, Dreaming a World: Korean Birth Mothers Tell Their Stories or this interview (pages 9-10) with Dr. Richard Boas, founder of KUMSN (Korean Unwed Mothers Support Network).

I think a lot of adoptive parents make this separation in their minds--that the initial decision a mother makes to relinquish her child has no connection to the subsequent adoption. Many AP’s and the like tend to compartmentalize these and deal with them as separate events.

But you have to keep in mind, no matter how YOU may view these situations as separate and apart from one another, many adoptees experience them as inherently linked.

The very existence of adoption practically and literally influences a woman’s decision, at times, to relinquish her child. Hence, for many adoptees, adoption is a part of what causes the trauma and loss.

I know that to many adoptive parents this is not only an offensive idea, but also an unfair and inaccurate assessment in their minds. Many AP’s become incensed, irritated, annoyed, etc. when this connection is drawn. I’m not saying you or anyone else has to necessarily agree with it, but I am saying that for many adoptees this is TRUTH.

There is always that lingering thought in the back of our minds…what if adoption by strangers had not been a viable option? Would my original mother have made the same choices if adoption had not been so readily and easily available? What role did social workers play in her decision? Was she coerced, pressured, made to feel like adoption was a better solution than trying to care for me herself? Was she made to feel incompetent, unworthy, and incapable so that adoption seemed the best thing for her child?

I think parents need to be willing to acknowledge that this is what is feels like, this is how many adoptees conceptualize their adoptions. Whether you agree or disagree is not the point—this is how it feels and is experienced by many adoptees.

My own Omma, after having 35+ years to deal with and be tormented by the consequences of her decision has shared with me that she would have made a different choice if she had been given the opportunity. (I realize that this is my and my Omma's experience and that not all situations or first mothers respond in this way, but nonetheless, my Omma's response is just as valid.)

There are two specific statements that she has made that stand out to me:

One, is that she says that had the services available today been available to her back then, she would have chosen to keep and raise me.

But the second, I believe the factor that was the more influential and telling, is the role her older sister played in the situation. Her older sister knew about the adoption services available in Korea. Her older sister is actually the one who physically took me to the agency/orphanage.

But the most telling is what my Omma herself stated: “She was like a god to me. I had to obey her.” My Omma clearly felt great pressure to relinquish me at the behest of her older sister. And her older sister applied such pressure, in part because of her knowledge of the adoption services available.

Of course, I realize that it was a storm of complex elements from social and cultural stigmas to economic and political issues that influenced my Omma's decision. But to deny the significant role and influence of the prevalence of adoption services on families in duress at that time (much to the neglect of family support services) would be dishonest and narrow-minded.

In my mind it is hard to separate the connection between the decision my Omma made and the availability of adoption as an option. It is hard for me to honestly say that the availability of adoption did not at least in part influence my Omma's decision to relinquish me. Also, in addition to her older sister's pressure, who knows what kind of guidance or counsel the social workers gave to my Omma.

Now, of course, I realize, that it is complicated. Believe me, I know. Trust me, by the very nature of the life I must live, I never forget that it is complicated. Korean culture in particular is steeped in old Confucian philosophy even still today (despite that it claims to be a primarily Christian nation).

Obviously, the reader who asked the above questions is a Korean-American, so she has a different point of reference and experience than do I as an outsider. But in my experience as a Korean adoptee, Korean culture creates a very unique dynamic with adoption, and one that is hard to reconcile. Even though Korea has one of the top ranking economies, it still sends so many of its children overseas. This is clearly not only an economic issue but also a sociocultural issue. I believe that with Korean adoptions specifically, the availability of international adoption is detrimental and highly influential due to the sociocultural stigmas and pressures that still persist today.

Now the relevant reader being Korean-American changes the dynamic some, of course, and hopefully she and her husband are fluent enough in the Korean language and culture to be capable of not only exposing but preparing their child for a more complete experience of Korean culture--the good, the bad, and the ugly. But, it will be interesting to see how their child grows up to conceptualize his or her adoption one day.

Adoption certainly seems a better fate than an orphanage or foster care, but it is hard to separate the influence that the availability of adoption has on the decisions that these mothers and families make to relinquish their children, particularly when dealing with international adoptions, and specifically Korean adoptions.

For many adoptees, adoption equates to being taken from one’s original family and biological origins no matter how you may conceptualize it in your own mind. As an adoptive parent, you may view yourself as the one who is intervening and rescuing the child from life in an institution or a life of foster care. But you must be willing to accept that to some, adoption is equivalent to being taken from one’s family and origins.

You may be able to separate the two, and conceptualize that the relinquishment happened apart from and before the adoption, but for many the two are not separate, bifurcated incidents—they are the same thing.

I know many AP’s do not see it this way and that many find this an accusatory misrepresentation of the role of adoption. And I can understand that. Fair enough. Everyone is entitled to draw their own conclusions. But you’ve got to understand that no matter what you decide, there are those adoptess who will always feel this way—will always feel that adoption robbed them of their families, their lives, their identities, EVERYTHING.

To assign wrong to this experience, to condemn it, to label it as angry, bitter, and ungrateful is neither helpful nor just.

If that’s the way particular adoptees’ experiences play out for them—if their experiences teach them that adoption stole away from them their families and lives, then those experiences are just as valid as the adoptees whose experiences lead them to believe that adoption saved their lives.

In the case of adoptee experiences, we must resist assigning right or wrong, but rather learn to accept the validity of each adoptee’s experience and journey. It is what it is.

Hence, for some adoptees, adoption IS the trauma. It is what caused them to lose their families and their lives. It is what heavily or even perhaps primarily influenced their mothers' decisions to relinquish them. It is the very existence of adoption that led to the situations that they currently face. It is the cause of their grief and sorrow.

You may not feel this way or see it this way, but at least be willing to try to understand why and how it could feel this way and be this way for other adoptees. It is their reality and if you truly want to love the adoptees you know or the ones you call your sons and daughters, please be willing to acknowledge this.

It may not be your truth or experience, but that does not somehow invalidate that it is someone else’s truth and experience.

Also, keep in mind that just because you think you know the situation does not necessarily mean you know the truth about the situation.

Particularly in Korean adoptions, the level of openness and honesty in record keeping may have improved somewhat in more recent years, but there is still much room for reform and improvement. It seems that every adoptee that has searched discovers some giant gaping hole or oversight in his or her adoption file. It certainly was the case in my situation. There is often so much background and history omitted whether purposely or inadvertently.

Even if full disclosure seems to be the case, you can’t assume that you therefore know everything about the situation.

This applies simply because, again, it can create a false sense of resolution or comfort for the AP that adoption and the preceding relinquishment are separate entities and one did not influence the other.

But again, for the adoptee, the two may still remain inextricably tied and indubitably related.

* * *

Okay, with all that said, I would also like to note that all the above addresses adoption primarily from the adoptee's experience and perspective. Although I alluded somewhat to the experience of my first mother, my Korean mother--my Omma--I did not go into great detail about how adoption affects first mothers--the trauma, grief, and loss that they experience.

Again, I think the temptation for AP's and PAP's is to separate the two--you may view relinquishment and the subsequent adoption as individual, divergent entities. But again, this is not always the case for not only many adoptees but for many first mothers.

Rather than trying to put it in my words, particularly because I am not a first mother, I instead suggest that you read the following blog post, We Bleed Too, by a first mother at her blog, Adoption Truth. Also, you can read another blog post at Adoption Critique by another first mother, Dear Incubator.

It's important and vital to recognize and consider the way that adoption also affects first mothers, particularly because their experiences are so often neglected and dismissed, it seems, even more so than those of adoptees.

Adoption causes trauma and hurtful stereotypes not only for the adoptees involved, but also for the mothers who spend the rest of their lives wondering, hurting, aching...

* * *

Again, fellow adoptees, first mothers, and anyone else who would like to add their insight, please do not hesitate to do so.

I know what I have expressed is only my perspective and hence only scratches the surface. The more insight and feedback, the better.

I would also ask that you please be candid yet considerate in your responses--the reader who posed the above questions did so sincerely and humbly with a genuine interest and desire to try to educate and inform herself more thoroughly and honestly.

Even as she stated, she is not trying to be difficult but rather,

"We are really trying to learn and do things right and in the best interest of our future child. We want to be prepared / understanding to ALL possible trauma that our child may be facing."

Adoptive parent denial...?

A phenomenon I have noticed among adoptive parents is a tendency—despite exposure to the realities and truths about the adoption experience—to choose to believe that their adopted child will be the exception, the one child that will never face such realities and truths.

Parents may have read the book, “Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Parents Knew” or may have participated in seminars and groups that educate adoptive parents about the issues of loss and grief inherent to the adoption experience. Yet, these parents seem to reject this education and choose rather to assume that their adopted child will grow up issue-free. It’s as though they choose to believe, “My child will be different. My child’s experience won’t be like other adoptees.”

Why?

Well, my initial answer is ultimately that I cannot speak with certainty, simply because I imagine the reasons vary just as much as people’s personalities vary.

But one postulation is simply that these parents believe that the love they give to the adoptee is so special and so complete that it will inoculate the adoptee against the harder realities of adoption. Despite the voices of adult adoptees and all the literature and research that support our voices, many parents still choose to ignore what these resources offer.

Parents want to believe that they will be so sufficient and effective as parents that the adoptees will not be affected by the loss they have experienced.

Wow, not only is that a lot of pressure to put on oneself as a parent, but that’s a lot of pressure to put on a child.

It’s a common albeit unfortunate assumption to make. It’s not any different from a parent who has biological children making the well-intentioned although wrong assumption that their love and parenting will prevent their children from ever experiencing disappointment, failure, hurt, etc. in life. Most parents understand that the task of parenting is not to shelter their children from the unfairness and injustices of life, but rather to equip them with the tools to face them.

The task is similar when dealing with adopted children, except that they come to the parents with a loss that has already taken place unlike children who remain with their biological parents. Such an awareness of this loss need not cause panic nor should it be handled by choosing to ignore or deny it.

It is not that love is not needed, and it’s not that your love as a parent is not sufficient as far as love is concerned. It’s simply that it is more accurate to realize that love does not abolish the adopted person’s pain and loss.

When the adoptee bursts into a fit of rage or falls to the ground in tears, it’s nothing personal toward the parent. It does not mean that your love or your parenting has failed or somehow shown inadequate. Rather it means that the adoptee needs your love as a parent to be strong and secure enough to allow the adoptee to feel the rage and sob the tears without you putting pressure on yourself as a parent or on the adoptee as your child.

In short, a parent who loves does not prevent, eradicate, or deny such suffering or emotion. Rather a parent who loves must acknowledge, be patient with, and comfort such suffering and emotion, without fear or judgment, but with understanding and acceptance.

adoption: generally misunderstood

The persisting lack of knowledge and awareness regarding the issues that adoptees face continue to astound and confound me.

I was reminded recently how rampant and pervasive are the utter ignorance and incomprehension when it comes to the profound loss that adoptees experience.

My husband was speaking with a friend. We'll call him Clark.

Clark and my husband, Mike, happened to stumble into a conversation about a friend of Clark's. Basically, Clark's friend has a daughter in her early 20's, who Clark described as troubled and distant. Clark's friend was described as being a father who is removed and frustrated by his daughter's apparent disconnection and detachment.

Well, eventually it came up that Clark's friend's daughter is adopted. And not only is she adopted, but her [adoptive] Mom died recently and suddenly--only two years ago--in a car accident. (The first loss of her biological family is compounded by the loss of her adoptive Mom).

Of course, as Mike was listening to Clark describe the situation, Mike was startled by the lack of awareness and understanding and proceeded to try to explain to Clark how being adopted most likely accounts for much of the daughter's behavior.

Clark demonstrated difficulty grasping the concept, and in response to my husband's efforts to educate Clark, Clark asked, "Well, do you think it's just better for parents not tell their children at all that they're adopted?"

Inside, Mike is thinking, "!!!!!!!!" There seemed to be no acknowledgment of the double trauma experienced by Clark's friend's daughter as a result of being adopted along with the recent loss of her adoptive Mom.

Although frustrating and alarming, neither Mike nor I should have been surprised.

As much progress that has been made, we still have a long way to go.

It is estimated that there are anywhere from 6 to 8 million adoptees living in America. Sure it may only be a small percentage of the overall population but it's significant enough that most people know someone who is adopted, if not multiple persons who are adopted.

And yet, the adoption experience remains one of the most misunderstood and misinterpreted issues even today. It is subject to repeated euphemism and often the general public thinks they understand when they really have no clue.

What other trauma or loss is treated in the same way? Divorce, death of a loved one, returning from war--all of these major life events are viewed appropriately and treated with matching sympathy and compassion.

Yet when it comes to the adoption experience, society ignores any acknowledgment of trauma to the adoptee. It's not simply frustrating, but it is detrimental and hurtful to all of those involved in the adoption triad.

When a woman experiences a miscarriage, generally, most understand the loss involved. (Although, certainly, there will always be people who say well-intentioned but utterly misguided things).

How great is the loss when a woman relinquishes the child she has born? How deep the grief when that child must spend his or her life having lost the first mother and even more so having no answers, no knowledge of what happened.

It is indescribable the frustration and angst I experience in response to the lack of respect and understanding for the situation that adoptees face.

I continue to encounter individuals who not only do not understand but make no effort even to acknowledge the simple fact that adoption involves a profound loss and the accompanying grief and sorrow, confusion and pain that such loss involves.

I hope with time, more and more people will be willing and open to acknowledge the inherent trauma that adoption involves.

And if you're reading this and you think that perhaps you're one of the folks who perhaps does not quite get it, but you're willing to try to at least attain a basic understanding, please keep trying.

And feel free to contact me any time. I am more than willing to help you understand. And I promise I will be patient and considerate--just as I would hope that you would be patient and considerate toward me.

the Boy in the Stroller: How not to react

I.

I knew better than to drink a cup of coffee at 9 o'clock at night.

Now, it's after midnight.

My mind is racing, and I'm starkly awake when I want to be soundly sleeping.

II.

A conversation took place back in March on a Friday night between my husband and a woman.

I had been debating whether to write about what transpired.

But what the heck. I'm up and feel the need to throw it out there.

III.

In some ways, it was to be expected. You don't set up a "booth" on a sidewalk advertising that you have found your birth parents and that you're trying to meet them in Korea, without anticipating that you might encounter an array of questionable reactions. (To read about that experience, see the pertaining post called, "the Sidewalk")

Why I ventured to engage myself in such an idiotic activity--I don't know. Most likely, absolute desperation, and perhaps an eccentric lapse of logical and consequential thinking. What's that called again? Oh yes, impulsiveness.

IV.

The woman asked my husband, "So, your wife has found her birth parents, and she is trying to meet them in Korea?"

My husband replied, "Yes, that's right," expecting a supportive congratulations and best wishes.

The woman proceeded by practically yelling, "Well, my son is adopted, and he is a gift! And I don't care if he ever finds his birth parents!"

She might as well have slapped both of us in the face and saved her breath. I personally would have preferred the concrete hand print on my cheek over the intangible pang in my gut.

She stomped off, as she jerked the stroller that held her young son, and disappeared.

V.

My heart still wrenches and plummets when I think of the young boy in the stroller.

I will probably always think of him now and in the years to come--wondering what fate came upon him as a result of growing up in such an environment. I cannot call it anything but hostile and ignorant.

Maybe I'm wrong to make such a conclusion without knowing this woman or her background. Maybe she was just having a bad night.

In all honesty, though, I get the feeling, if that's the case, then every night is a bad night, if you know what I mean. May her mind and heart find better understanding and enlightenment, if not only for the sake of her son.

My heart is with that little boy, and I hope and pray that he will ultimately find his way.